Saving Kids With Burritos

I laughed. "Three bucks is enough. You're even getting shrimp and egg."Rory blinked, stunned. "Seriously?"I grabbed a few tortillas from the warmer, slapped them on the griddle. "Seriously. Go grab a seat."He picked a corner spot, rubbing his hands and watching me like I was magic.As I flipped the tortillas, I glanced over.The book said his stare "could slice through steel."But right now? His school uniform hung off his bony frame. Bruises peeked through the fabric, and cigarette burns ringed his wrists.Kid had clearly been through hell. And still—he trusted a stranger.If I hadn't read the novel, I never would've guessed this sweet, starving kid was supposed to grow up into some criminal mastermind... a future serial killer.I tossed a handful of shrimp on the griddle—they curled fast, turning that soft pink.The tortillas were warm, lightly toasted. I loaded them with shrimp, scrambled egg, and salsa, then threw in extra beef. Kid was way too skinny.Rolled them up

Watching this kid—who'd one day wreck the world—treat one meal like it was gold, I blurted, "Spring break's coming. Want to help at the stand? I'll cover your food."His whole face lit up. "Really?""Yup. We'll be at the tourist spot. It gets insane, and I need backup." I ruffled his wild hair. "You're hired. Kill it and I'll throw in extra shrimp."He snapped to attention. "Miss Murphy, thank you."I meant to walk him home, but he wouldn't let me—insisted on pushing the cart instead. Only when we got to my place did he finally take off, backpack slung tight.I watched his skinny frame fade down the street, this ache curling in my chest. Whatever it took, I'd rewrite his ending.He wasn't a villain yet. Just a broken kid trying to survive.Spring break hit, and Rory showed up before sunrise. Every. Single. Day.He'd scan yesterday's numbers like a tiny CEO, then pick the best money spot. Wiped tables, cleared dishes, scrubbed plates—fast, smooth, like he'd done it forever. Kid

Out of the hundred grand, once I cleared my old debt and bought Rory's freedom, I had twenty thousand left.I threw it down on a tiny place—just four hundred square feet. Barely fit the two of us, but it was ours.It also meant I was back in debt. And now I had a kid to feed. Time to hustle even harder slinging mini burritos.***From the day I adopted Rory, I banned him from working the stand. School came first. No exceptions.Every morning, I left early. Came home late.Then one day, mid-burrito rush, my phone rang."Is this Rory's mother? He hasn't been showing up to afternoon classes. His grades are solid, but this still breaks school policy..."My brain went static. Loud, buzzing static.Rory always got home late. If he wasn't at school... where was he?I ditched the stand that afternoon and tailed him.He slipped into a scrapyard, greeting the workers like it was his second home."Rory!" My voice shot up before I could stop it. "Why aren't you in school? What are you

By the time I snapped out of it, I was already walking Winona into the corner market for some warm, fresh bread.When we came back... there it was. Twisted metal, glass everywhere.Good thing my soft heart kicked in. Good thing Winona showed up when she did.Otherwise? I'd be roadkill.I didn't get hit, but the driver ghosted. Straight-up hit-and-run. News vans swarmed the scene.After that, Rory stopped swinging by after school. Started coming home late, sometimes all bruised up.Something felt off. So the next day, I tailed him.Found him by his old place.Some guy was facedown, drunk, bleeding out on the pavement.And Rory?He was going off—fists flying, totally unhinged.Then I saw the guy's face.Donald.He locked eyes with me. "Help me...""Rory! What the hell are you doing?"He froze for half a second, fist mid-air—then kept swinging."I know you blew it all again. If you come near us one more time, I swear I'll drag you to hell myself!""I didn't!" Donald's voi

Winona nodded, spooned up the soup, but the tears wouldn't stop. She tried to play it cool, like it didn't hurt—but she'd been straight-up abandoned. From here on out, she was on her own.***I rubbed my hands, eyeing the girl, and made the call.One or two—what's the difference?"Winona, if you're cool with it, come live with us. You and Rory are about the same age. We'll be a team now. Not rich, but you'll never go hungry."Rory nodded like it was a done deal. "You won't starve."Winona's nose went red, tears streaking down her face. "Okay. We're a family now."***That shoebox apartment? Way too small for the three of us.I kicked burrito sales into overdrive. The kids hyped me up at school, and the crowd outside the gates blew up. People couldn't stop asking how I scored such a stunning son and daughter.I put my cramped 400-square-foot apartment on the market and threw the cash at a down payment for a three-bedroom.We finally had our own rooms.But the mortgage? Bruta